Initiative
by RequitedLove
Summary: Louisa prompted Martin to say, "Perhaps it'll be time for something new." He starts a new hobby, but quickly realises he may have misunderstood her once again. He decides to try some outside help.
1. Chapter 1

This story takes place after episode 3-01. Parts in italics are from Doc Martin, Series 2, Episode 9, the Christmas Special: "On the Edge" - written by Jack Lothian.

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 1 - Saturday**

'Was that Martin? In jeans?' wondered Louisa. She saw him walking down the street in Wadebridge on a Saturday afternoon as she was driving home from shopping. Because she needed to pay attention to driving, she couldn't do the double-take necessary to verify that it was him, and not someone who looked like him. She'd like to think she knew his walk by now, but who knows? Stranger things have happened. Then again, she thought, what could be stranger than Martin Ellingham in jeans?

-oo0oo-

Back home in White Rose Cottage, Louisa stood on her deck overlooking Portwenn's beautiful harbour. She was thinking about how much she'd like to spend nice evenings like this with a partner. Martin crossed her mind, and she looked over the water at his surgery. And didn't the man himself pull up in his silver car? She watched as he pulled a couple of large, brown bags from the trunk of the Lexus and began carrying each, in turn, around the side of his cottage. And he was most definitely NOT wearing a suit.

This, she had to see, so she put away the remains of her tea and headed down the hill on her way over to the surgery.

-oo0oo-

Martin finished unloading bags of humus and potting soil from the trunk of his car, then got in it and moved it to its parking space. He entered his kitchen and washed up at the sink, then got out the fish he'd bought for dinner. He thought he'd get it started before changing his clothes.

A couple of minutes into this task, there was a knock at the kitchen door, so he grabbed a cloth for his hands and walked over to open it.

"Louisa," he said, in surprise. He then watched her eyes travel down and back up, looking at him, and realised what he must look like. Bugger! He hadn't had a chance to change out of these silly clothes. Joan had asked him to change a rear light on her pick-up truck, and he'd bought the beginnings of a project he'd recently decided to take on. The tough texture of the jean material seemed appropriate for the task he had planned. He'd ruined enough suits in the course of duty here in Portwenn over the last couple of years.

Louisa was smiling at him now, as she entered the kitchen. He closed the door, but didn't miss her scanning him, again, this time from behind.

"Martin?"

"Yes?" he said, guardedly.

"How long have you owned jeans?"

"Are you... um..."

"Checking you out?"

"Um... hm."

"Yes. I think I was."

She watched him redden, which only made her smile more.

Luckily for Martin the phone rang and he went to answer it. She looked at a diagram of an herb garden on the table. She recognised his neat (for a doctor) handwriting, and liked the way he sketched the geometric shapes.

She heard Martin tell the caller, "I'm sorry, but I haven't the time."

He listened for a moment, then asked, "What type did you say it was? ... Hm. That's nearly rare."

She saw how his long fingers idly traced the table surface.

"I, um..." He was looking over at Louisa now. "I can't at this time. ... Yes. ... I'll call if I can. ... Yes. Bye."

Martin hung up the phone and returned to where Louisa stood by his drawings.

"Was that about a clock?" she asked him.

"Yes." He looked uncomfortable, like he had a secret.

"Are you still fixing clocks?" Louisa asked. She tried very hard to sound interested and not accusatory.

"Well, I thought you wanted me to do something new."

"Is this garden because of what I said?" She sounded like she was figuring something out.

"I thought it's what you meant. Get a new hobby." He sounded confused now, trying to remember their somewhat cryptic conversation.

She knew that the conversation hadn't been clear. She had needed to drive Delph's mother back home, at the time. But, she realised, they had definitely not been thinking along the same lines.

"Oh." She looked sheepish. "Well, better get back," she said, to escape this now slightly uncomfortable situation.

Martin, realizing their conversation was off, tried to think of something helpful to say.

"Um, have you eaten?"

That was unexpected, she thought. But she didn't think now was a good time.

"I, um, just had a late tea before taking a walk." Her mind worked away. "Maybe some other time?" she asked, hopefully.

"Some other time," he said, agreeably. She thought he looked relieved. She walked to the door.

"Bye, then," she said, as she opened the door, and then walked through.

"Bye," he replied. He'd followed her to the door, and watched her out of sight before closing it.

He thought, I don't think she meant get a new hobby. Oh, God. Had she meant? Was it possible? He looked at the door and once again felt sure he would never get it right with her. He had told her some weeks back that he found her hard to understand in the best of times.

Understanding. Wasn't that...

He went to his desk and opened a folder containing the paperwork for the Understanding Others course he'd agreed to take. Under duress, as it happened. He had been so worried about Louisa being tied up in his surgery by that fool Jonathan that he had agreed to Gavin Peters' "initiative" without an argument. He'd forgotten about it until the course pack had arrived a couple of days ago.

He remembered the initial conversation...

-oo0oo-

_"Dr. Ellingham, there's a recent initiative. A training course focusing on people skills,"_ Gavin had said.

_"Oh, God."_

_"It's two weeks and it will teach you how to relate to your patients as people, not just medical complaints. After that, I'll return to see how you've taken it on board."_

_"And what if I choose not to attend your initiative, Gavin?"_

_"Well, then, I'll recommend you be removed. It really is down to you, Dr. Ellingham."_

_"Right."_

-oo0oo-

He recalled walking out, mostly because he could not believe that he'd had to sit for any length of time with pasty filling drying on his face.

Martin then thought about that horrible afternoon when he had been taken hostage in his surgery, along with Louisa and Pauline. When Gavin showed up, Martin desperately tried to get him to go away so he would not also be held hostage...

-oo0oo-

_"Look, Ellingham, you've forced my hand. I'm going to recommend your removal."_

_"Fine. Fine. Just send me the relevant papers and I'll be off."_ Martin was flipping out because Louisa was on the other side of that door with Jonathan!

_"This could have been avoided if you'd agreed to the course."_

_"I'd love to go on the course."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah. Uh, yeah. A-a-absolutely. Count me in."_ He turned Gavin around and led him to the door.

_"Well, I'll sign you up, then."_

_"I'm your man."_

_"It's two weeks, you know? People skills."_

_"Sounds super."_ Martin didn't care how he sounded at this point.

_"I will be checking your attendance."_

_"Thank you."_

_"Thank YOU."_

_"No, thank you."_

-oo0oo-

The first step was to take a Myers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator test online. Upstairs now, Martin signed in on his laptop with the password provided.

Meanwhile, the phone in the surgery went to voice mail. It was Gavin informing him he was released from the Understanding Others course due to extenuating circumstances, those being the hostage situation and the cliff rescue. Gavin couldn't resist reminding Martin that the need for the course could be revisited in future, if necessary.

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

This story takes place after episode 3-01. Parts in italics are from Doc Martin, Series 3, Episode 1: "The Apple Doesn't Fall" - written by Richard Stoneham.

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 2 – Sunday morning**

Martin awoke slightly later than normal. He hadn't heard the phone overnight, which was always nice, but he had stayed up later than he usually did. The course pack for Understanding Others had proved to be slightly interesting.

He dressed and headed down to the kitchen. He retrieved the Sunday newspaper from out front, checked and saw the light was not blinking on the answering machine at Pauline's desk, then set the paper and the course pack on the kitchen table. He made himself an espresso, boiled an egg, and settled into his morning routine.

Disquietingly, he soon found himself distracted by two things. He kept thinking about the call about the clock. It was a very interesting clock, with an ormolu mounting. He knew its rarity, as no true ormolu was produced in France after around 1830 because the use of mercury had been outlawed. Due to exposure to the harmful mercury fumes, most gilders did not survive beyond age 40. But he'd already told the man he didn't have the time. He probably should call a couple of contacts to help find someone else who could fix it.

The other thing that was nagging at him was that course pack.

After completing the Myers-Briggs test online, Martin had learned he is an ISTJ personality type. He really didn't like psychology, but he had read the description again.

"ISTJs are quiet and reserved individuals who are interested in security and peaceful living. They have a strongly-felt internal sense of duty, which lends them a serious air and the motivation to follow through on tasks. Organized and methodical in their approach, they can generally succeed at any task which they undertake."

Well, he couldn't deny its accuracy, so far, annoying as it was. The last sentence made him think of only one thing, though, or one person, as it were. Louisa. He didn't like thinking of her as a "task" but... he knew he had to be proactive if he ever hoped they would be a couple.

He remembered her quite recently telling him so, in so many words...

-oo0oo-

Louisa was at the surgery in the evening for a check-up after fainting. Martin had asked her a series of personal, but medically necessary questions.

_"I'm not very happy talking to you about this kind of thing,"_ she said, trying to sound confident.

_"Why not?"_ asked Martin, in his usual, oblivious way.

_"Because, Martin, you're asking me questions that are completely inappropriate."_

_"I'm your doctor."_

_"Yes, but you're also... ...you know. You're also. You know, you and me - we're - We've got some kind of... Should I just change my surgery and go to Wadebridge?"_

_"That's up to you,"_ said Martin, trying to stay professional.

Her insecurity had morphed into anger.

_"Right. That's what I'll do, then, because everything's always up to me, isn't it? You never do anything or say anything to help us move on. We just go 'round and 'round in circles."_

She left angrily, and Martin just shook his head.

-oo0oo-

He had taken a few minutes and worked out that Louisa was probably an ENFP personality.

"ENFPs are warm, enthusiastic people, typically very bright and full of potential. They live in the world of possibilities, and can become very passionate and excited about things. Their enthusiasm lends them the ability to inspire and motivate others, more so than we see in other types. They can talk their way in or out of anything. They love life, seeing it as a special gift, and strive to make the most out of it."

Absolutely his opposite, but that's why he knew he wanted her in his life. He wouldn't be able to give her back what she gave him, but he knew that what he could give her was in the next part of his personality description.

"ISTJs are very loyal, faithful, and dependable. They place great importance on honesty and integrity. They are 'good citizens' who can be depended on to do the right thing for their families and communities."

'That's pretty good, isn't it?' he thought. 'I mean, so many relationships go wrong on these points alone.'

"An ENFP needs to feel that they are living their lives as their true Self, walking in step with what they believe is right. They see meaning in everything, and are on a continuous quest to adapt their lives and values to achieve inner peace. They're constantly aware and somewhat fearful of losing touch with themselves."

Hadn't Louisa just told him recently, right here in this kitchen, that she worried about everything? He had tried to reassure her...

-oo0oo-

Martin was fixing a clock, and Louisa and Alison stopped by. They all had an uncomfortable exchange of words, including Alison trying to apologize.

After Louisa ushered Alison out the door, she poked her head back inside.

_"Can I stay here?"_

He was caught off guard by that, but, ever the gentleman, he said, "_Of course you can."_

_"No, I promised to take Alison home. I meant can I stay at the surgery... as your patient?"_

_"You want me to be your doctor?"_

_"I want you to be my... doctor. Yeah."_

He had heard her slight pause, but he asked, _"What changed your mind?"_

_"I don't really know."_ She moved closer to him. _"Do you think..."_

_"What?"_

_"Do you think I'm anaemic?"_

She seemed a bit scared, so he gently said, _"I can find out, but I wouldn't worry about it at this stage."_

_"But I DO worry."_

_"Do you?"_

_"Yes."_

_"What about?"_

_"Everything. I worry about what I'm doing with my life."_

He felt the urge to reach out and take her in his arms.

_"Well, I'm sure that's not uncommon,"_ he said, reassuringly.

_"Well, do you worry about your life?"_

_"I tend not to dwell on those things. I just try and keep busy, really, with work and... my hobby."_

_"Your clock."_

_"Mm. I've nearly finished this one."_

_"Then what?"_

_"Hmmm."_ He paused, trying to figure out what she wanted him to say. _"Perhaps it'll be time for something new?"_

_"I hope so."_

_"Good."_

_"Yes."_

She smiled, then, and left. He watched her, with longing and a little confusion.

-oo0oo-

He had realised he could have gone on and on with it, comparing, contrasting, qualifying, excusing himself, accusing her, but knowing he could review it another time, he'd finally called it a night and slept.

He set the newspaper aside and opened the course materials to the next section. It started off oddly, in a first person voice.

"It's easy for us to misunderstand each other even though we speak the same language. There's no such thing as telepathy. Our thoughts and feelings are essentially private, so tuning in on each other's wavelengths is difficult. Without being able to read each other's minds, we have to make do with verbal and non-verbal clues, and they are not always reliable.

Unfortunately, misunderstandings can be serious obstacles, making it hard for us to influence each other, cooperate and work successfully together.

But all is not lost. If I want to improve our understanding of each other, I can do two things. One is try to make sure I understand you, and the other is try to make sure you understand me. The first has to do with how well I listen, the second with how well I speak. They are two sides of the communication coin.

I can practise and develop both of these skills, and I don't need you to be good at them. They'll improve our relationship even if it's only me using them."

Maybe this course would prove more helpful than he'd imagined.

He knew he needed to get on with his day now. Time to start that herb garden. Louisa crossed his mind, and he figured it was because she'd been there yesterday, looking at his diagram.

There was a knock on the kitchen door behind him. He went over and opened it.

"Louisa."

**End of Chapter 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 3**

Louisa smiled as her hair moved gently with the morning breeze. This was one of his favorite visions of her, but Martin still couldn't stop his first thought being one of concern.

"Why are you here? Are you ill?"

"No, Martin. I've come to help you with your new project. It has been my experience, both in life, and as a teacher, that people get discouraged at the amount of work necessary just to begin something new."

Martin thought of the personality description he'd been reading, but did not tell her that his type was the only type that would not have that problem. He welcomed her inside.

"So," said Louisa. "Have you started?"

Martin was still processing the fact that she was there. He saw her jeans and remembered her question from the day before.

"A couple of months," he answered. Well, to him it was an answer. Louisa just looked confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, these trousers. I've had them a couple of months. Auntie Joan has been asking for my help with car repairs and a few things around the farm."

"Oh, right." She hadn't planned for that to come up again, knowing that certain topics made him uncomfortable. She dangled a pair of work gloves in her hand. "Have you started?"

Martin didn't respond right away. He hadn't planned on anyone helping him. He recalled a couple of bits of her personality description...

- oo0oo –

'... warm, enthusiastic ... can become very passionate and excited about things... ability to inspire and motivate others ...'

- oo0oo –

"Martin?"

"No. Was just heading out, as a matter of fact." He inclined his head and indicated they should go out the same door. He turned towards the little outbuilding and she followed.

"You should paint this up like the TARDIS. It's just the right size," said Louisa, teasingly.

"TARDIS?"

"Doctor Who?"

He looked bewildered.

"It's a show on the telly? Doctor Who travels through space and time in the TARDIS?"

"I'm not familiar with it," he replied. He opened the shed door and entered.

"It can be silly and fun, or scary, but sometimes it is very thoughtful and sentimental. It's one of my favorite shows."

Martin made a mental note of that. He had to start somewhere. However, back to the matter in hand. He gave four planks to Louisa, who leaned them, in turn, against the shed. She got a chance to peek around the side, and could see he'd already cleared a space for the raised bed herb garden.

"I had planned to construct a box to fill with soil, humus, and such, and then set in the plants."

"Have you bought the plants yet?"

"Um, no. I wanted to buy them when the garden was ready. In case something came up. I didn't want to take the chance of them drying out."

"Well, shall we get started? I am a very good assistant," Louisa said, cheerily.

He had a lot of thoughts competing in his mind. When he'd done the planning, he'd imagined himself constructing the garden alone. He liked the thought of her here, but couldn't help worrying if she'd only be in the way. He forced himself to just accept her offer of assistance, and added her to his vision of building this garden box.

"Okay," he said, and her smile was added to his mental inventory of images. "I had the home center cut the wood for the frame to the needed lengths."

"Good planning," she said. "Just tell me what to do, what to hold, and when."

Martin had brought out a toolbox, extension cord, and four short lengths of 4x4s. He laid out the box parts, and took out a drill and deck screws.

Louisa sensed that Martin could complete the whole project without saying a word, let alone needing her help, but she decided to try some small talk while they worked.

"Do you often get phone calls about broken clocks?"

"More like occasionally. There are many clock shops throughout Cornwall, and back in London, as well, but yes, I have been asked, personally, to take on certain clocks."

"Is it because you're so good at fixing them?"

"Um, I think it's when the shopkeeper has too many requests." Martin couldn't imagine himself being recommended. He enjoyed the process, and, if honest, could only remember one clock he worked on that he couldn't fix, but bragging wasn't something he did.

They had come to the last corner of the box now and efficiently finished it off. With Louisa's assistance, he set in the lining. Next came all the bags. They filled the bed with a mix of topsoil, compost, potting soil, humus and organic fertiliser.

"What next?" asked Louisa, still an eager participant. Her cottage didn't have even a tiny bit of garden, so she was enjoying this project.

"To be honest," Martin began, "I had planned on calling a couple of people I know who have worked on that particular clock's problem. I feel I shouldn't just leave it."

"Oh," said Louisa, with just a tinge of disappointment. "So, no plant buying, then?"

"You don't have to help with that," Martin said, his mind now divided between two tasks, and not sensing her feelings.

"Fine. If you don't want my company, I'll just..." she said, pulling off the gloves and indicating the direction she would now be headed.

Martin heard her pique. "Please, Louisa. Give me a moment." This was actually a big deal for him. She had stormed off on many occasions, and he couldn't remember a time when he'd asked her to wait a minute.

Louisa was surprised he'd actually asked her to stop. She immediately knew she was repeating a behaviour, and a negative one at that. She worked on calming herself.

"Yes?"

Martin thought about the last section he had read in the course pack...

- oo0oo –

'It's easy for us to misunderstand each other even though we speak the same language...

... If I want to improve our understanding of each other, I can do two things. One is try to make sure I understand you, and the other is try to make sure you understand me...

I can practise and develop both of these skills, and I don't need you to be good at them. They'll improve our relationship even if it's only me using them.'

- oo0oo –

"I'm sorry if you misunderstood," he began. "Your help this morning has been most welcome. Only it's... only I didn't imagine having help with this project. I'm not used to it."

"And I've enjoyed helping you, Martin." She thought for a moment. "Look. How about you make your calls, and, if you want, I can come with you later to buy the plants." She could see his relief. "I will go have some lunch, and you can let me know what you decide."

With that, she descended the four steep steps to the road, noticing in her peripheral vision that he was still watching her as she headed down the road.

**End of Chapter 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

Parts in italics are from Doc Martin, Series 1, Episode 2: "Gentleman Prefer" - written by Dominic Minghella, and Doc Martin, Series 3, Episode 1: "The Apple Doesn't Fall" - written by Richard Stoneham.

**Initiative - Chapter 4**

Martin started his laptop and opened his file of clock contacts. He called two he had consulted with over a prior French mantel clock, but both were already working on clocks. Additionally, each had promised to take on another clock following their current one. Both of them also said they would have suggested HIM for the clock. It seemed just the sort of challenge he was good at.

Martin thought about the clock. And hobbies. And how he knew Louisa hadn't meant a new hobby. And about the work he'd… they'd already done on the herb garden.

But he hadn't bought the plants, yet.

It was unlike him, but he was honestly thinking of putting off the plants for now, and taking on the clock. He'd had an agreement with Mr Bainbridge for years to take on clocks like this one.

He called the shop in Devon to find out more information. Mr Bainbridge didn't usually call Martin more than once a year, because of the distance, but he also told Martin he was probably the only one who could fix it. He appealed to Martin's conscience by telling him the clock was intended as a special gift for an upcoming 80th birthday. Martin agreed to take it on.

After he hung up, he remembered how, when Roger Fenn once asked him, _"What do you do when you're not working?"_ he'd answered, _"I'm always working."_

He thought of the last thing he had been reading on the laptop - the personality descriptions. He opened up the file he'd made and read more about his type:

"The ISTJ is extremely dependable on following through with things which he or she has promised. For this reason, they sometimes get more and more work piled on them. Because the ISTJ has such a strong sense of duty, they may have a difficult time saying 'no' when they are given more work than they can reasonably handle. For this reason, the ISTJ often works long hours, and may be unwittingly taken advantage of."

Maybe he shouldn't have said yes about the clock. Maybe he shouldn't continue with the garden, and try and spend more time with Louisa. He was sure that is what she was trying to get him to understand.

Now he worried about disappointing her. She had seemed very happy about the garden.

He read: "Under stress, ISTJs may fall into 'catastrophe mode', where they see nothing but all of the possibilities of what could go wrong. They will berate themselves for things which they should have done differently, or duties which they failed to perform. They will lose their ability to see things calmly and reasonably, and will depress themselves with their visions of doom."

He really didn't like psychology. It was already making him feel bad.

He thought again about the day Louisa told him she was thinking about changing surgeries…

-oo0oo-

Louisa had said, _"...everything's always up to me, isn't it? You never do anything or say anything to help us move on. We just go 'round and 'round in circles,"_ and left a bit angrily. He had gone to his desk to grab some papers, then out to reception only to see her walk out the door. He walked into the sitting room and looked out the window. Louisa was talking with the new police constable. At first he couldn't hear what they were saying, but then their voices got a bit louder and he could just hear through the old window.

_"I better get home."_

The P.C. had asked, _"Husband waiting for his tea, is he?"_

_"I'm not married."_

_"Oh. Boyfriend?"_ The P.C. was certainly nosy.

_"No, not really,"_ Louisa had answered even louder.

Martin thought, '"Not really?" She isn't seeing anyone at all, is she?' His mind worked. He turned towards Pauline, one of the main cogs in the Portwenn gossip wheel, who had just returned to her desk. She would surely have said something, and made certain he heard.

Of course, Pauline then asked him if he had anything else for her as she wanted to head home.

-oo0oo-

He really wasn't very perceptive sometimes, was he? In retrospect, being able to separate the doctor visit from Louisa actually speaking to him person to person, he could now see that HE was the "not really" boyfriend.

This was a revelation. He felt hopeful, yet helpless.

Glancing down, he saw a tab in the course pack labeled "Communication" and flipped to it.

So much information and not the right time to absorb it, but one thing stood out:

"Relate in new ways. Identify the way you typically approach the person and experiment with a dramatically different behaviour. Notice what happens."

He changed out of the jeans and drove to Louisa's cottage.

-oo0oo-

"Martin?" said a very surprised Louisa at her front door. "Has something happened? Did you go on a home visit?"

"Um, no. No. May I come in?"

"Yes. Of course." She led him through the kitchen to the back area, where he could stand with more headroom.

"Did you enjoy your lunch?" he began, although it felt inadequate.

"Yes," she replied. "Just a small sandwich. Any luck with your calls?"

"Um, no." He looked at a slip of paper he was holding, and yet didn't continue speaking.

"You've decided to fix the clock yourself, haven't you?"

He looked up in silence. Could she read his mind?

"Martin. It's fine. Is that what you're doing now? Going to get the clock?"

"I... yes. I need to drive to Devon, the other side of Dartmoor, actually, for the clock and since that shop has parts I'll need. Because of the distance, I need to go today."

"That sounds like a perfect Sunday outing. I think I'll come along."

"Um. You might find it a bit boring." He grimaced and looked at the piece of paper again.

"Oh, I don't know. How often do I get to go to a clock shop, let alone with someone who is knowledgeable about clocks?"

Looking up from the paper he said, "What I mean to say is you are welcome to come along. I wouldn't mind, actually, but are you sure?"

"Yes, Martin. It sounds like a nice way to spend the day. I just need to change. Give me a couple of minutes?"

"Yes," he said, with the beginning of a smile, because quite possibly her smile was the reaction the course pack meant when it said, 'Notice what happens.'

While Louisa was upstairs, Martin started to worry about how this trip could go wrong. It was a bit long. What would they talk about? He pulled out his paper, again, and re-read some of the notes he'd been taking while preparing for the course. He was thinking about, 'Don't assume. Ask,' when Louisa was suddenly back downstairs.

"Ready?" she said, brightly.

"Yes," he replied, feeling a touch guilty. He hastily put the paper in his pocket and they headed out.

**End of Chapter 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 5**

They made good time driving up and out of Portwenn. Martin had turned down the classical station his car radio had been tuned to, but it was just the right, pleasant background music for a Sunday drive.

"How long have you been fixing clocks?"

"Since I was a boy, actually. My grandfather had a table clock. He never let me touch it, but he ended up teaching me how to wind it by letting me watch him. When he wasn't around, I would have a good, quick look inside of it. I would take it apart and put it back together, in stages, over time. I learned to recognise when oil and dust build-up were affecting the mechanism. He let me watch him clean the mechanism once." Martin trailed off.

"Did you see much of him growing up?"

"No, my parents didn't take me many places while I was growing up." Silence again.

Louisa knew that his parents were a source of unhappiness in him. She had figured that out during their one visit, that she knew of, to Portwenn. Martin was tense and sad those few days.

"That's too bad. Grandparents are usually a more patient version of parents," said Louisa. "Do you know where that clock is today?"

He nodded. He knew. "Aunt Joan had it last. She'd painted the glass door. Folk style. Garish." He knew he sounded grumpy, so lightened up. He thought about how his uncle was the patient adult in his young life. He added, "Uncle Phil let me fix a clock of his, and a neighbor's after that."

- oo0oo –

They had passed a couple of signs to enter Dartmoor National Park.

"Have you ever driven over Dartmoor?" Louisa asked.

"I was there with Aunt Joan and Uncle Phil one summer. Uncle Phil had met a sheepherder at a fair, and we visited, had a late lunch, and went home." He thought for a minute. "They had a son around my age and he spent the whole time daring me."

"Did he get you into trouble?"

"No. I wasn't a very good sport."

Louisa smiled. "I interpret that to mean you were a good kid. The last time I was down here, it was before my mother left; we went to the Dartmoor Zoo, down near Plymouth." She was quiet then, thinking and remembering.

Martin thought, '...different behaviour. Notice what happens.' He said, "Should we drive through?"

Louisa's smile was his answer.

"I would love that," she said.

Martin took the exit south from Whiddon Down.

- oo0oo –

The hillsides were covered in purple heather, and the skies were filled with fluffy, fair-weather clouds. They had to stop once for a tour bus giving its passengers a chance to photograph the Dartmoor Ponies lying on their sides in the sun. At one point, Martin noticed he was tapping the steering wheel and made himself stop.

They were also slowed by several Scotch Blackface sheep ambling across the narrow road.

"I love their black and white legs," said Louisa. "It's like they're wearing fun stockings."

Martin watched her smiling and pointing. This trip wasn't going too badly, after all.

They started seeing signs for Widecombe-in-the-Moor.

"They filmed War Horse near here," Louisa remarked.

"Isn't that a play?" asked Martin.

"Yes," she replied. "It was a children's book, then a play, then a film. I think an episode of 'Sherlock' was filmed here, as well."

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"The modern-day version?" she asked. Martin, once again, was unfamiliar with it.

They had seen, and continued to see, lots of hikers up and around the tors they passed.

"Guess it's gotten to be a popular destination," Louisa added. "Oh, I heard a new term for that recently, 'Set-jetting.' Traveling around to see where TV shows and films were based."

"Hm," was as much as Martin dared interject. He knew, because he had squelched his first, negative reaction to that silly activity.

- oo0oo –

An old-fashioned shopkeeper's bell jingled over the door as Martin and Louisa walked into the shop. Every square foot of wall space appeared to have a clock mounted on it.

Mr Reginald Bainbridge looked to be in his seventies. He wore a magnifying headgear and had a pocket tool holder. He adjusted his glasses as Louisa entered, then smiled broadly when he saw Martin.

"Martin! Here you are! Good to see you!" He came out from behind the glass case to shake Martin's hand, patting him on the arm as he did so.

"Yes," said Martin. Attempting to alter his style, he added. "You, too."

Mr Bainbridge looked at the attractive brunette in his shop, then inquiringly back at Martin.

Martin, trying, said, "This is my... Louisa... This is Louisa Glasson, my... This is Mr Bainbridge."

Mr Bainbridge shook Louisa's hand, with a knowing smile, and said, "Enchanted, my dear. Please, call me Reg."

Louisa said, "Very nice to meet you, Reg."

Reg thought she looked quite pleased, and decided the two must be a new item.

"Martin said he's been repairing clocks for you for years. So, he must know what he's doing," said Louisa.

"If I'm honest, Martin is the best horologist, who isn't one, that I've ever worked with," said Reg with pride. "He has helped with my shop's reputation." Martin, of course, shook his head slightly. Louisa wondered how often he was complimented, and yet knew that it probably wasn't very often.

The bell jingled over the door again as a middle-aged gentleman entered the shop. Once he was inside, he set a box on the floor at his feet. He nodded at Martin and Louisa, turned to the shopkeeper, and said, "Afternoon, Reg. I tried your counterpart in Exeter, and 'e said you 'ad the man 'oo could do the job."

"Quite right," said Reg. With a flourish of his arm, he added, "And here he is. Martin, Gerry Day. Gerry, this is Dr. Martin Ellingham, the man with the hands." The men shook hands, and Martin tried to improve on his earlier fumble by simply saying, "And this is Louisa Glasson."

"Nice to meet you," both Gerry and Louisa said at the same time, but neither found it uncomfortable.

"So," said Louisa, pointing at the box on the floor. "Is that the clock that Martin's come to fix?"

**End of Chapter 5**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 6**

"Yes," said Gerry. "It was once the pride and joy of my father's. Kept it on a pedestal. Only 'e could clean it, wind it, know anything about it, for that matter. It's been sitting quiet in the ole 'ouse since me Mum passed away. And I thought, it's 'is 80th this year. Why not fix it up and chiming again? Anyway, long story short. I 'eard a funny sound when I was winding it."

As he spoke, he opened the box, lifted out a mantel clock, and set it on the counter. It had four glass sides, through which you could see the chiming coil and workings. It was ormolu decorated, and Louisa thought it was one of the prettiest things she'd ever seen. The enamel was particularly beautiful, colored in a light blue and rose pattern.

She had to admit, she also liked the way Martin looked at the clock. His brow furrowed, and he almost pouted. He was probably evaluating the external treatment of the clock before taking on its inner problem.

"Well, shall we get the formalities out o' the way?" asked Reg.

"Insurance papers," Martin said quietly to Louisa.

Martin and Gerry went with Reg, who carried the clock, to his office.

Louisa walked slowly around the shop, stopping to watch the movement of several pendulum clocks. She was smiling at a cuckoo clock chiming the hour, when Martin paused at the doorway to watch her. The way she tilted her head, her ponytail responding to her movements... he could look at her all day.

He came out and stood beside her.

"They are repackaging the clock in a proper shipping crate," he told her. "Because of the glass sides."

Louisa glanced back at the cuckoo clock.

"The first use of an automaton bird is credited to a Greek mathematician," said Martin. "In the 2nd century BC, he used water to sound a whistle and make a model owl move."

"So long ago! I thought they were always made in the Black Forest."

"They have been, for some time. Late 17th century.

"Da Vinci designed a more accurate clock around the turn of the 16th century, but the use of pendulums was not until 200 years after him. Timekeeping as we know it today wasn't important until the 20th century. Day and night, 12-hour shifts for soldiers, which week of the year to plant, and when the Nile would flood, that's what mattered."

Louisa wondered if anyone else was ever as mesmerised by his voice as she was at the moment.

"The controlling mechanism began with three parts in a vertical arrangement: the crown wheel, verge, and foliot balance."

She watched him use his hands as he demonstrated the different mechanical parts and their movements, making claw- and spider-shapes, twisting his wrists and twirling his fingers.

"Weights on the horizontal foliot could be moved to adjust timekeeping. The verge had two blades protruding at nearly a right angle so one would catch the teeth of the crown wheel and start it moving, and the other would stop it from moving too far. That type of clock was accurate to within two hours, in the 14th century. But later came the pendulum.

"Galileo had studied the regularity of swinging bodies, but through circumstance is not credited, as is the Dutchman, Huygens, for adding this device to clocks. The verge was now turned horizontal, and accuracy was immediately increased.

"Next, a device called an anchor escapement was added. It was basically a lop-sided C-shape. It controlled the swing of the pendulum, making it so it wouldn't have to swing so far. Also, minute hands could be added to clocks.

"Pendulums were replaced by the anchor escapement. Then, electronic timepieces overtook mechanical ones in the 1930s. Quartz watches are most accurate today, but I like having a mechanical watch."

He subconsciously half-turned his wrist and looked at his watch.

"Does it tick?" asked Louisa.

Martin brought his watch to his ear, saying, "Yes." Then offered Louisa a chance to listen.

She took hold of his arm and put her ear and the watch close together. She smiled at the lovely ticking sound, then continued smiling as she sensed Martin breathing in the smell of her hair.

Martin closed his eyes as he breathed in a mixture of scents, from wood and wood polish and bergamot, undoubtedly from steeping Earl Grey tea, to the most tantalising and close, Louisa's hair. Coconut, he'd decided as he opened his eyes. Louisa turned towards him, then, smiling, and Reg returned to the storefront.

"So, all that's done, then. Gerry's in the loo, and tea is ready, if you'd like a cuppa," he said, cheerily. "Oh, Louisa, forgive my manners. I haven't even offered you the facilities yet. Just through and at the back on the left."

"Thank you," said Louisa. "And I would love some tea. Martin?"

Trying to keep up, and act differently, Martin had already anticipated the offer and had his answer ready.

"Yes, thank you."

- oo0oo –

Gerry had to leave without tea, as he was meeting his family for their weekly dinner. Martin had used the facilities during the goodbyes, and returned to hear Reg gloating about the fixes that no one else could do, done by one Doctor Ellingham.

"He just has a way with clocks," said Reg. "Knows when cleaning, or a touch of sanding, or straightening a metal part is the answer."

"How did you two meet?" asked Louisa.

Reg didn't let Martin answer. "I had a clock that none of my regulars could figure out, so I started calling shops around Devon, who then recommended shops in Cornwall. One shop said he had a guy who hadn't done much work for him, but was surely the man who could solve any clock problem. He was right. So now I call on Martin when I have a clock that seems hopeless."

Martin's head hung through most of this, with a slight shake or two as he listened. Louisa looked at him until he finally met her eyes. She looked, dare he think, proud of him? He felt very warm then, in a good way. He looked at his watch for a distraction, and immediately realised how late it had become. Louisa had wasted enough of her Sunday already.

"Um, we should probably be heading back," he said. "Don't want to take more of your time."

"Well, you know that's no problem. But I wouldn't want to keep Louisa," said Reg.

"I have had a very nice time," said Louisa. "Learned some things about clocks, too." She sort of pointed towards the inner doorway, "I'll just... be a minute."

After she'd gone through, Reg smiled at Martin. "She's a keeper."

"Umm." Martin hadn't anticipated that. "We, umm. She..." He sighed. He was completely out of his depth, but he decided to just say it. "I hope so."

"It's okay, Martin. I always like to poke and pry, but I think you have nothing to worry about. Just be more sure when you deal with her." He winked and said, "I'll get the clock."

Martin said, "I'll get my car."

**End of Chapter 6**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 7**

Before Martin got into his car, he reached into his pocket for his sheet of notes. It wasn't there. He tried his other pockets, then looked around the car seat, behind it, under the car, and scanned up and down the road.

He sat behind the wheel before starting it and exhaled in frustration. 'Where could it be?' he thought. There was nothing for it at that moment, but to bring the car to the shop door, so he drove. He turned off the ignition and saw Bainbridge exiting the building, so he released the boot lid and got out of the car.

Together they set the crate safely inside and closed the lid. Louisa emerged from the shop, the cheery bell sounding farewell.

Martin, now slightly agitated, excused himself and reentered the shop. He scanned the floor of the storefront, then went to the office and on to the lavatory. Nothing. He had to head back outside, and he did so with a strong feeling of doom. He recalled his personality description. 'Just stop it,' he admonished himself.

Reg was standing beside the passenger door, and as Louisa settled herself, he closed the door for her. Then he turned to Martin.

"Alright, Martin?"

"Um, yes," said Martin, unconvincingly. But Reg didn't argue. The men shook hands.

"See you soon, then," said Reg.

"Yes," said Martin, then he got into the car and they were off.

- oo0oo –

Louisa couldn't help but notice his tension, and she couldn't help but wonder why. She thought back over the conversations towards the end of the visit, and she really didn't think it was something she'd said. She couldn't imagine it was anything that Martin and Reg might have discussed, either. It was a mystery. 'Well, must try,' she thought.

"That was fun," she started. "He thinks the world of your clock-fixing skills, doesn't he?"

Martin had just been mentally retracing his actions as they'd left Louisa's cottage earlier. He was sure he'd pocketed the sheet of notes. He thought hard, remembering that she'd startled him somewhat when she'd suddenly been back downstairs. He had to admit that he might have had a momentary bout of shaky hands. Rubbish. He heard her question.

"Seems so," he said, without conviction.

"No, really. I got the feeling that he liked bragging that he knows someone as skilled as you."

"It's just clocks, Louisa."

And there he went, saying the wrong thing. He knew, because she tensed, then turned her head towards her window in silence.

Why did he just say that? Yes, to him it was just clocks, but she was right... It was rare that he received compliments. If ever. He had a fleeting memory of the afternoon after Danny Steel's collapsed lung. Roger's simple, "Well done, mate," had been nice to hear.

He sighed. "To me. It's just clocks, to me. Bainbridge is very... generous."

Louisa, however, stayed silent for a bit. 'The work,' she thought. She looked over at him for a couple of seconds, then back out her window.

"Do you remember when I asked you about Delph Lane possibly having ADHD?" she said.

"I don't discuss m..."

"...discuss your patients, yes. I know. I'm talking about when Bert interrupted our conversation."

Martin thought back to that moment. He had just gotten her to sit at his kitchen table, and it had seemed like they might actually have an uninterrupted conversation, but, yes, he recalled Bert bumbling in as usual.

"You had just told me that your father would hit you with his belt or a table tennis bat, or both." Louisa paused, then said what went unheard and unanswered that evening, "And I asked, 'and you don't think that's had anything... to do with how you are with people?'"

Martin stayed silent, thinking. What he'd said was not a big deal at the time. He was so far removed from childhood misbehaviour, and could only think about the main topic of their discussion, the terribly misbehaving Delph Lane.

"I've never thought about it," he started, but didn't know where to go after that.

"Sorry, I'm not a psychologist," said Louisa, apologetically.

The trip continued in silence.

- oo0oo –

They had finished driving the single carriageway, had rejoined the highway at Exeter, and were heading west. Martin started to think about the return to Portwenn. He had liked a lot about this day, but just thinking of the worst patients he'd seen lately put him in a negative mood.

He was also thinking, speculating really, about his notes. The sheet must be inside Louisa's cottage. He needed to go inside with her to grab it before she saw it.

How to do that was his new source of misery.

Louisa broke the silence. "When does that course start that Gavin Peters wanted you to take?"

Was there no end to things Martin did not want to be thinking about at this time?

"There is an introductory phone call sometime tomorrow, then the class starts on Thursday afternoon. It finishes after seven afternoons on the following Friday. Peters has arranged a locum."

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk him out of it," said Louisa, sincerely.

"Not your fault," said Martin.

"I've just realised I seem to have a one-track mind. Honestly, Martin, it's just a coincidence. You and I... we have a lot of unfinished conversations, don't we?"

Martin was so out of sorts, he needed to think before replying to this simple observation.

He thought back to something Joan had recently said to him.

- oo0oo –

Joan had just learned that Martin gave up his London flat so his father gave up his claim on the farm. She was emotionally grateful.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she'd asked.

"You didn't give me the chance," Martin told her, matter-of-factly.

"Ah, the Ellingham Curse."

"What do you mean?"

"Never talking about anything. Keeping your emotions hidden."

- oo0oo –

Martin didn't have a one-track mind at the moment. He now had three major areas of mental discomfort. He was worrying that Louisa thought his childhood had made him miserable company as an adult. He was nearly convinced that she would find his notes before he did and he would then be utterly embarrassed. And this day, that had gone so well for the most part, would shortly return to being just another lonely evening at home, with a clock to fix, but no one to make him hopeful for the future.

**End of Chapter 7**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative - Chapter 8**

Louisa's stomach growled a little, and she remembered their conversation from the previous evening. He'd asked, "Have you eaten?" but she'd just had her tea and he was clearly embarrassed about their misunderstanding. It had ended fairly well, though...

'Maybe some other time?' she'd asked, hopefully.

'Some other time,' he'd said, agreeably.

Previous to this return trip, she might have thought they could have dinner together this evening. But now she just wasn't sure.

She thought of another bit of small talk to ease the tension.

"So, back to the grind tomorrow. There's never enough time on the weekends to do all the fun things in life."

He couldn't believe she'd just said that. She was the one who invited herself along.

"Well, I'm SORRY for taking up your time. You didn't have to come."

She couldn't believe he'd just said that. What was UP with him?

"I didn't mean this trip," she said, rather vaguely.

"Well, what DID you mean?" Martin could feel this conversation going wrong.

"I meant like, I don't know, reading a book," she answered. "You know, YOU could do with reading a book now and then."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Martin, just read something, anything. Read The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway. You live near and serve fishermen. Read Any Human Heart. That's about a British man. Or The Quiet American by Graham Greene. He's a British writer. Read A Confederacy of Dunces, since you think everyone's a dunce.

"Read A Study in Scarlet, since you seem to have medical powers of deduction like Sherlock Holmes.

"Read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. That boy is brilliant like you, but he has autism spectrum disorder. The world is a bit much for him, but he perseveres.

"If you just want to live your life alone, read Walden or Robinson Crusoe. See how others found being alone.

"You need to think of something else besides work all the time." She sat back with her arms crossed, looking out her window.

He glanced at her and knew he didn't really want to be alone, and that he'd rather spend any spare time just thinking of her, but he took her words to heart. Somewhere in the course pack he'd read how works of fiction could increase emotional intelligence.

"Which one is your favourite?"

"What?!" she asked, somewhat incredulously. She had rattled off the titles, annoyed and impatient with him, certainly not expecting him to then want to converse with her about them.

"Which do you recommend? For me," he said, feeling vulnerable.

"Well, I haven't read them all." She thought for a minute. "The most recent one I read was The Curious Incident. As a teacher, I liked how it handled difference, about being an outsider. I've always liked Sherlock Holmes. He's the opposite of me. He notices everything. A Study in Scarlet is about Holmes and Watson meeting for the first time. I really like the new TV version, set in modern day instead of Victorian England."

Martin was now overwhelmed, but this was the second time she'd mentioned Sherlock.

"Okay, I'll read it. The scarlet one."

"A Study in Scarlet. Really?" He was full of surprises.

"Yes," he said, and they were back to silence.

- oo0oo –

Now Martin's stomach was growling. He had actually skipped lunch today in the transition from building an herb garden to fetching a clock. He thought about the previous evening when he'd asked Louisa if she'd eaten. He recalled being glad to put it off until another time as he still felt uncomfortable about misunderstanding her. But she had asked, 'Maybe some other time?' And he had agreed.

It just might be a way to get into her cottage to look for his notes.

Now, how to broach the subject. The last time he'd asked her, her father had shown up, and his invitation went unheard. He reasoned that even if she said no to him, it would not be for a second time. So, he decided to ask.

- oo0oo –

When they got to Portwenn, it was still some time before sunset. Shadows were only just beginning to form.

Martin pulled up outside Louisa's cottage, his nerves starting to hum at this point. He fairly launched out of the car to put himself between her and her front door.

As she exited the car, she looked at him.

"I was, um... would you like to have dinner with me?" he asked.

This man was such a contradiction! Dinner? Well, she was at sixes and sevens herself. The morning was nice, then Martin was abrupt about her not needing to help with the garden. Then they were off on a trip over Dartmoor, and he had been patient. She enjoyed the time in the clock shop, but he had gone cold as soon as they'd left. They'd even actually started arguing, but Martin had been the one to rectify that.

He frustratingly had not shown much initiative where their potential relationship was concerned, but she knew he was shy. Based on the latter, she could just make it easy on him and accept. So, she did.

"If you're sure, then yes, I'd like that. Feeling quite peckish, actually."

She reached next to him with her key and he moved over so she could unlock the door. He put his hand on the door to push it wide and was going to step in front of her, but his gentleman side stopped him. She entered and he closely followed, scanning the floor as he went.

Of course, he had to close the door, so had to look back a moment. A moment in which both he and Louisa spotted the sheet of paper on the floor. He moved towards it, which Louisa noticed, and then she made a move herself. He stopped next to her, staring in dismay at her foot. Which was purposefully set upon the paper.

"You have been acting quite odd today, Martin. Maybe more odd good than odd bad, but still. Does it have anything to do with this piece of paper?"

**End of Chapter 8**

**Author's Note:**

The list of books with their authors:

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Any Human Heart by William Boyd

The Quiet American by Graham Greene

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon

Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **- Chapter 9**

"Please, Louisa," Martin said, almost pleading.

Louisa looked at him. He looked slightly terrified, his eyes somewhat wide, face reddening. What could it be? What could make him nearly beg like this? Was it something lewd? Or maybe the opposite. A love letter? Her imagination was starting to rev up, but instead she took pity on him. He had been good company this morning, and most of the afternoon. Perhaps he missed this notepaper and that's when he became distracted and their day turned less comfortable.

She decided her burning curiosity was not enough to make her prolong his discomfort. She cared too much for him to do that.

She squatted down and retrieved the piece of paper. She glanced at it as she stood up. His nice handwriting was accompanied by circles, exclamation points, and underlined words and sentences. She didn't intend to read it, but several things stood out because of his emphasis marks. She saw 'make sure I understand you,' 'make sure you understand me,' and 'Relate in new ways... Notice what happens.' Incongruously, 'Doctor Who?' was in a bottom corner.

She remembered Martin holding a piece of paper just before they set out on their trip today. This must be that paper.

Then she thought about Martin's "people skills" course, coming up this week. 'Understand?' 'Relate?' Suddenly she felt anger. She held the paper out, and he took it.

"Have you been practising on me? For your course? Is that what today was all about?!"

"No, of course not," Martin replied, with growing fear. He folded the paper once, then again while they faced each other.

He sighed, but didn't say anything.

She looked at him, but saw he didn't appear to be forthcoming. Now it was her turn to sigh. She shook her head a little bit.

"Just... Just go."

"Louisa..." he tried, vainly. "I wasn't practising... Well, I _was_ practising, but..."

"I don't want to hear this, Martin! This whole day...! Please leave." She had walked over to the door as she spoke, and opened it. "Now!"

Martin was breathing fairly rapidly now. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. How could he explain? He didn't want to say anything wrong. He wanted to look at the paper; the course pack, really. He remembered something about 'counting to ten' and 'giving each other space.'

He couldn't leave now. He needed to talk with her. She was so angry, but he couldn't leave. Not this time. He walked to the back of her cottage, to put some distance between them, and sat down on the futon.

Louisa closed the door and was again surprised at how he was acting. She didn't want to talk with him just then, however, so she went upstairs.

- oo0oo –

He heard her stomp up the stairs, and then a door slamming. He couldn't believe he was still in her cottage. He couldn't believe she had seen his page of notes, exactly as he had feared she would. He couldn't believe he didn't feel as embarrassed as he had expected he would. He supposed her anger had chased that feeling right away.

- oo0oo –

Upstairs, she swung her bag overhand, slamming it onto her bed. Then she dropped next to it. That only lasted a moment, however, and she was up and pacing. Was she not doing exactly what she'd just decided not to do? Minutes ago, she had been thinking about not prolonging his discomfort, and now she was trying to calm down after accusing him of pretending with her all day. But he admitted he was practising! Why should she care about his feelings when he had been using her all day?

He let her help with the garden when he clearly didn't need help. He took her on a business trip and pretended to not be impatient driving in Dartmoor. He acted nice until he missed his precious paper. Then he was his usual self, gruff, monosyllabic...

- oo0oo –

Not wanting to crush her decorative pillows, he was uncomfortably perched on the edge of the futon. He got up and moved slowly around her sitting area. Looking out the back door, he could see the harbour was now in deeper shade, dulling and hiding the usual striking colour of the ocean. He almost felt the same darkness moving over him. Why did he say he was 'practising?' She obviously thought he meant he was practising on her for his course.

He wasn't practising-pretending. He was practising-trying new ways of being with her.

- oo0oo –

Louisa went out of her bedroom and used the bathroom. After washing her hands, she splashed water on her face. After patting dry, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She had insinuated herself into the garden project. She had invited herself along on his trip to Devon, and had seen him gazing at her once or twice. He was nice and patient and perhaps trying to be different with her. Better.

- oo0oo –

He washed his hands and used a now damp paper towel to wipe his face. His intestines had another session of audible borborygmi. Maybe he shouldn't confront Louisa on an empty stomach.

She obviously didn't want him here. He couldn't very well force her to come down and speak with him. He would just have to try again tomorrow.

- oo0oo –

Louisa heard the front door close, and she moved to the window to see his car angle away from her door and head down the hill. She headed downstairs and to the deck, but didn't go outside. Instead, she watched him arrive at the surgery and walk to the patio. He turned then and stood looking towards her for nearly a minute before he went inside.

- oo0oo –

Should he call her? Tell her he meant he was trying new ways to act when with her. Should he wait until tomorrow? How long did it take her to calm down? He didn't know, because one or the other of them had always stomped off after a disagreement or misunderstanding.

He made himself a light dinner, ate it unhappily alone as he'd foreseen, then retired for the night. He needed to be refreshed for the next day's phone call with the course instructor. He lay there for some time staring at the darkened ceiling before he finally succumbed to sleep.

- oo0oo –

She made herself a light dinner, all the while wondering if she should call him. Tell him she had been re-thinking the whole day. That she saw it in a more positive light upon reflection. She was leaning towards this decision, but when she looked across the harbour, she saw his upstairs light go out.

She tossed and turned for some time, trying to lessen the feelings she had but would not be able to ease without speaking with him, until sleep finally overtook her.

**End of Chapter 9**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **– Chapter 10**

Martin ended up waking up earlier than usual. It was the typical last unsettled thing on his mind from the night before preventing him from rolling over for a little more sleep. He got up.

Dressed, and at the breakfast table, he opened his file with the personality descriptions. He didn't have time to spend on it then, but he read, 'ENFPs sometimes make serious errors in judgement. They have an amazing ability to intuitively perceive the truth about a person or situation, but when they apply judgement to their perception, they may jump to the wrong conclusions.'

How do you deal with someone who is just being 'true to type?'

After flipping the course pack to a random page, he started reading about "Social Awareness" - 'Relates to, and is attuned to, the feelings, motives, and concerns of others.' Then he saw "Relationship Management" - 'Responds to the feelings, motives, and concerns of others.' And 'Children observe and model the behaviours they see in others, especially those close to them...'

That was a road he did not want to go down. Besides, he didn't have time for that!

He read, 'So much depends on effective communication. When you are unable to communicate clearly and effectively, the result can be disastrous - the cause of war, the end of a marriage, the loss of a job, the end of a friendship.'

He needed to get ready for the phone interview!

- oo0oo –

The interview preparation asked him to 'Make a list of the people or groups of people at work whose co-operation you need, are not entirely satisfied with or have difficulty getting. (Include superiors, peers, subordinates, customers, vendors – anyone you wish.)'

He wrote, "Schoolteacher." He realized they might see through that, so he added, "Patients, receptionist."

It asked him to 'List the most relevant interactions and/or situations; add anything.'

He wrote, "Receiving criticism myself without appearing defensive" and "Communicating effectively" and "Initiating conversation."

It also asked him, 'What specific effect are you having on people at present – are they being switched on or off by you?'

He wrote, "I answer questions without thinking of how they affect the other person" and "I am not taking enough initiative in improving interactions" and "I don't feel comfortable being complimented." He decided to add that he thought he was good at calming people down and gaining their co-operation when they were resistant, aggressive, complaining or objecting.

Lastly, it asked him to seek feedback.

"Oh, God," he muttered.

- oo0oo –

"Hello," said Roger Fenn. He had been helping Maureen feed their newborn twins, a scenario that had only just turned into a cranky session.

Martin could hear the sound of a baby, two babies actually, crying in the background. He ignored it.

"Roger? I have been told to enroll in a course or my position as GP of Portwenn could be in jeopardy. There is an initial phone call I must make and to prepare for it, I am charged with interviewing someone I've worked with. The question I need answered is: I must find out how I can improve my interactions. I'm not asking you to assess me as a person. It's more I need to know exactly when something I say or do makes you feel good, and when it makes you feel bad. I promise I won't take offence whatever you say. Are you willing?"

Roger had begun to smile during this convoluted inquiry, the most words Martin had ever used in a row. With him, anyway.

"One moment, Martin," he answered, then covered the phone's mouthpiece and asked Maureen if it would be okay to take the call. He returned shortly.

"Yes, Martin, I am willing. Are you in a hurry? Or would you like me to come 'round?" Roger was his usual friendly self, and Martin actually felt ashamed for how he needed to answer.

"I am in a bit of a hurry. Sorry. I've left it longer than I should have."

"Oh, well," said Roger, still happy to help. "Let's see... When do you make me feel good, and when do you make me feel bad?"

- oo0oo –

Pauline had not yet returned from the phlebotomy course. Meanwhile, Poppy received a phone call from an unhappy patient complaining that he'd left a message on the answering machine. She checked and found it wasn't working. She called the surgery's number and found the machine was on "Announce Only," but it was actually broken. She added "Buy a new telephone answering machine" to her list for Doctor Ellingham.

- oo0oo –

Martin was about to make the phone call to the "Understanding Others" instructor. He was reviewing the answers Roger had given him earlier. Roger said he felt good about Martin persuading strongly without becoming entrenched in fruitless argument, but that maybe Martin could work on giving really bad news without appearing heartless. He said he was fine with how Martin was firm but fair, but that sometimes his criticism made people feel attacked. Martin made a few additions to his interview notes.

Martin remembered back to the Talent Night. Roger had asked him if he took 'some kind of perverse pleasure in upsetting people when they're at their most vulnerable.'

'That's not how it was,' he thought. He was just doing his job, trying, for the second time, to inform Maureen Tacey of her pregnancy. Roger had asked him not to upset her, as she was going to perform soon. Martin thought about how telling her anything at all at that moment had been a bad decision on his part. He could have waited until after her performance, or even the next morning, but he was just trying to be efficient. Going to her place of employment, and later to that Talent Night was like a home visit. But it didn't make what he did right.

He was in his office after the last patient before his prearranged break. He dialed the number for the interview.

- oo0oo –

Louisa had awoken that morning feeling very unhappy with herself.

During school, she thought about Martin's notepaper and the efforts he had made on the trip down to Devon. She knew she should have let him explain himself.

She thought of a way to talk with Martin undisturbed. She decided to call the surgery for an appointment.

**End of Chapter 10**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

**Initiative** **– Chapter 11**

- oo0oo –

Louisa thought about Martin, and especially about Martin yesterday. He had been different with her, seemingly trying to comfortably be with her. They had asked each other questions, he'd picked up that she wanted to drive through Dartmoor, and she smiled remembering the moment when he smelled her hair.

AND, when she'd gotten upset when they got home, he had tried to stick around to talk with her, but she stayed upstairs too long.

She knew they were very different and being attracted to each other wouldn't smooth over their different styles. She definitely needed to stop jumping to conclusions with him.

She thought about the garden, about how it could grow along with their relationship. 'I sound like a silly romantic.' She thought about their kisses, how much she'd enjoyed them both, even though he ruined the first one with his clinical act. 'And has apparently completely forgotten our second.'

Then she thought about how different and dependable he was compared to her father, and Danny. She realised how much the appointment could mean for their future. She dialed the surgery.

- oo0oo –

The course instructor had seen through Martin's ruse quite early in the conversation. He could tell Martin was thinking of one person, a schoolteacher, who he wanted to have a better relationship with. He decided to be as helpful as possible on that front, then to steer the conversation back to why Martin was enrolled in the course in the first place.

Right in the middle of the phone call, he had received a handwritten message from his receptionist which said that Martin Ellingham was released from the course.

He finished up the discussion on relationships and knew he should tell Martin about the cancellation message. Seeing a potential opportunity to entice Martin to take the course anyway, he delved into Martin's issues with patients, and his receptionist.

However, when he did reveal Gavin Peters' message, Martin very abruptly thanked him for his time, but ended the interview.

- oo0oo –

Because the expected interview time was shortened, Martin told Poppy she could accept one or more patients before the rest of the afternoon schedule started back up. She was, therefore, able to schedule Louisa in when she called.

-oo0oo –

Martin felt a little embarrassed about the turn the phone interview had taken. He had found himself talking about relationship difficulties, with the instructor asking him questions. They were good questions, though, and even though he didn't answer them fully then, he was still thinking about them now.

Did he see any sort of sign on her part that she wanted a relationship with him?

Yes, he did. From her saying, '...everything's always up to me, isn't it? You never do anything or say anything to help us move on. We just go 'round and 'round in circles.'

To her comment about whether she had a boyfriend. 'Not really.'

To him saying, 'Perhaps it'll be time for something new?' He remembered her eyes. So beautiful and intense, willing him to get her message. But he just put the words into the wrong context. Easily done. Time to try a new hobby. But, now he knew, what she'd wanted him to get was now he'd have time for something new, as in 'them.'

Idiot, thought Martin. Of course she meant 'them.'

-oo0oo –

Idiot, thought Louisa. She was remembering how she thought Martin understood 'time for something new' meant spending time with her. She knew he was a literal thinker. How many times had she had to set him straight about jokes? Of course he would think that since fixing clocks was a hobby that she was suggesting he get a new one. As much as she was attracted to him, she wasn't sure how many times she could "make a move" without her self-esteem crashing and burning.

-oo0oo –

He couldn't believe how many times he got it wrong with Louisa. He didn't fully understand her, and was so unsure of himself. That time they'd kissed in the taxi, he could barely bring himself to hold her hand, let alone initiate anything. He thought his comment about her breath would be helpful. A one-time girlfriend, the one who'd ended up laughing at his marriage proposal, had always told him helpful things about his hygiene.

They WERE helpful. Well, maybe when she'd started repeating some of them... maybe not then. And, come to think of it, the way she offered these "helpful" observations... maybe they weren't very nice. Actually, they were sometimes condescending.

Upon reflection, maybe Louisa had felt what he was only now comprehending.

-oo0oo –

She realised that the way she usually dealt with people, was maybe not the way to deal with Martin. He wasn't one for sarcasm, or joking, or even double entendres. He was a stand-up guy, who spoke straight to others, and expected the same back.

-oo0oo –

Martin wanted to tell Louisa that she wasn't just something to do with his spare time. She meant much more to him than that. When they had been talking about fixing clocks, and finishing with the one he'd been working on, and he suggested something new, of course he didn't think of her like that. He'd already been standing there, his body a nervous, tingling mass. That was enough distraction without trying to decipher what she might be thinking. He hoped he could talk with her soon.

-oo0oo –

When Louisa arrived at the surgery, it was empty but for Poppy.

"Still itching?" asked Poppy, being friendly, but, she realised, nosy. She quickly looked apologetic.

As that had been the malady Louisa gave for the appointment, she could only say, "Yes. A prescription should solve it."

Poppy smiled and went back to reading about answering machines online.

Louisa knew Martin might be angry with her using an appointment like she planned, but she needed to speak with him and didn't want any chance of interference.

The door to Martin's surgery opened, and he did a double-take upon seeing Louisa.

"Come through," he said. The scent of her shampoo wafted after her, and he closed the door. They sat down, facing each other across his desk.

"Doctor Ellingham, I think I have a bad case of short temper." She held up her hand to stop him when she saw his mouth open.

"I have suspected it for some time, but when I am in the company of one special person it really flares up. He may also have a short temper, but he seems more in control. Especially lately. I noticed myself getting agitated with him, and yet also noticed him using calming techniques.

"We had gone driving on an errand to Devon. We found ourselves remembering our unhappy childhoods and didn't really appreciate how we were making new, happy memories right then.

"I think the trip was so pleasant, because he was trying to learn about me, be less impatient, and share. I may also have been, only not as consciously as he did.

"Anyway, I tried not to look at a piece of paper he seemed very focused on, but I could easily read his nice handwriting and got the wrong idea about things he'd written. I wanted to clear up the matter, ease the discomfort, but I waited too long.

"I am here now, and I hope you have a helpful prescription."

Martin was feeling the tingling again.

"Well, it sounds as if you are improving. Maybe you caught it from him. He sounds like he's feeling better, and you should, too, soon."

Martin got out his prescription pad and wrote for a minute. He folded it in half. When he handed it to her, he said, "Follow the instructions twice daily, up to 3 times if necessary. Following a prescription is like learning a new habit. It takes time."

"Thank you, Martin," she said. She breathed a sigh of relief as they both stood. "I'm sorry about how yesterday ended. I had a very nice time with you."

"Me, too," said Martin, which seemed to cover it all.

"Will you continue with the herb garden?" she asked.

"I'm not quite sure."

"You could keep a couple of your favorite herbs in pots on the windowsill," she offered. "Maybe have a flower garden instead. I could help with that."

"That would be nice." He felt warmer, now, and much better after last night, the course interview, and now this conversation.

"You really should stick with fixing clocks, Martin."

"Well, I don't know..."

"Have you never thought that maybe you ARE one of the best? That maybe Reg knows what he's talking about and you should feel proud that someone recognises and appreciates your talent?"

"I just... I don't see myself that way."

"Well, how DO you see yourself? I would really like to know, Martin."

That feeling came over him, the feeling that he would never be good enough for her. That even if he told her what he wanted, ever, about anything, it would somehow not be right. It wouldn't mesh with what she wanted, and she would reject him.

She saw him turning inward, tensing. She had to try a different tack.

"Look. It's just the two of us. I won't tell anyone what you say, and, I guess, I hope you won't tell others what I say, but I hope you will. Tell me, that is."

"Tell you what?" asked Martin.

"What you want. What kind of woman, what kind of relationship, whether it's marriage. Do you want children? A child? What kind of home will you and your family live in? How do you see that partnership?"

Louisa was on a roll now. Each question she asked made her think of another one she'd like him to answer. She didn't know much about him. She liked him very much, yes, because of his obvious interest in her, but more based on what she'd been a witness to since they'd met. His skill in diagnosing ailments. His amazing way of providing emergency care, especially when nearly overwhelmed by his haemophobia. And she'd really liked their kisses.

Martin was experiencing sensory overload as each of her questions brought an answer to his mind, which caused a series of physical reactions. She was the woman, and she was right in front of him. The sight of her beautiful face, the colors of her clothes and her eyes and her hair, which itself smelled heavenly. As she spoke, he could imagine her holding a baby. Their baby. And he could no longer deny himself more. He completed the sensory quintet by gathering her in his arms and kissing her, tasting her sweet lips. She was soft and warm. And responsive.

Louisa had watched him intently as she asked her questions. She had seen him staring back, his mouth barely opening, then moving as if he were about to speak. His hands clenched and unclenched lightly, as if he wanted something to hold on to. She loved the blue of his eyes, and his soft, graying hair, and the way he smelled of starch and a manly, old-fashioned deodorant. She pictured him holding a baby. Their baby. And suddenly their arms were around each other and she could taste his soft, warm lips.

They could hear Pauline's voice out at reception, returning from her course. The kiss ended and Martin kissed her forehead. "Thank you for coming in today," he told her, sincerely. Then, reluctantly, he went out to reception to get his next set of patient records. Louisa slipped out through the kitchen.

- oo0oo –

Out in front of the surgery, Louisa opened the scrip. "Be patient. Make sure you understand him and that he understands you. Relate in new ways and see what happens."

Martin watched her from the window in the sitting room. He could see her smile in profile.

Then he turned towards Pauline in reception and called, "Next patient, please!"

THE END


End file.
